Between the Bars
by Synonymia
Summary: Despite all that went wrong, and all that could go wrong in the future, his ambition grew and he continued to scheme. Pregame, slight alternate universe, RufusTifa undertones.


**Author's Note: **Inspired by both Elliot Smith and bits and pieces of Before Crisis. AU in nature. Slight Rufus/Tifa overtones. I am unsure if this is going to be a one shot or a four part series. As it is now it can stand alone but in my head it DOES continue. Enjoy!

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**Between the Bars**

His simple gold watch's face read 2:01 AM -- not an hour that anyone would want to be wandering the backstreets of Sector Seven. Sector Seven as in the slums -- not the elegant upper plate with its street signs and small businesses, but down below with the run off and riffraff and that nauseating odor. The slums smelled of piss and trash and that was the least of this man's problems. Cut-throatthieves and roving gangs were not an uncommon occurrence . And so the man in the brown leather coat trudged through murk and strange puddles of God-knows-what, clutching his hidden holster's shotgun close just in case. He wasn't a fool, after all.

He had reasons for being out there at such a ridiculous hour.

The Seventh Heaven bar. It didn't stand out amongst the hovels that littered the small section of lower Midgar. Rotted wood and an old roof of cracked shingles, the only thing mildly special was its name. Heaven. But this place was anything but Heaven. And as he stared at this building, this Seventh Heaven, he wondered for a moment who would possibly start up a bar and give it such a promising name. Moving warily past a homeless man who seemed all to interested in him, he stepped through the door.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we're about to close." He stopped in his tracks and looked up to find the girl whose voice rang out across the bar. She was standing on tiptoe, balanced on a stool as she stacked several newly cleaned shot glasses back into the uppermost cupboard. It seemed she didn't need to turn around to know that someone had entered her bar just before locking up. Figuring the girl in the tank top must have astoundingly good hearing, the man stopped in his tracks, pushed a pair of wire framed glasses back up and over his eyes and watched her. Waiting.

The girl was slender, yet shapely and appeared to be no more than five and a half feet tall. Clad in what appeared to be a short, fitted tank top and a skirt that left little to the imagination, she looked every bit the slum dwelling bar hostess and nothing like a proper terrorist. For a moment the figure at the door hesitated, considering the notion that his intelligence may have been off a bit. The Seventh Heaven bar. That was where Avalanche had now stationed itself under new management. Could she -- this woman be his go-between? He smirked, fighting back the urge flick a strand of strawberry blond hair back. It was best not to blow one's disguise when they were in a potential enemy's territory, even if he figured that this bar-wench would probably not recognize him if he strode in wearing his signature upper-plate outfit. He wasn't going to chance it, however. Being caught out in the middle of the slums doing what he was about to do would mean a death most likely, and not just from someone looking for easy prey. Sensetive information on his person, he could so easily be charged with treason. And treason in Midgar meant one thing.

Being vice-president means shit when you're dead.

Then again, so does being president. 

And that point factored so easily into Rufus Shinra's ultimate plan. Inept beyond all reason, at least in the young executive's opinion, the president had to be let go in more ways that one. And as there was little he could do professionally, despite all of his business sense and charm, there was but one way to dispose of a man in power. Strategic upheaval. A coup that appeared out of nowhere. He would rise to power glorious and save ShinRa from an uncertain future.

And then run things his way.

But perhaps Rufus Shinra was getting ahead of himself. He still had to meet this woman and give her the information hidden away. Then he had to hope that Avalanche would know what to do with it and do it well. He cleared his throat and took a step forward, pressing on. "Am I to presume that you are Miss Tifa Lockheart?"

His voice had startled her. Rufus inwardly detracted the thought that she was exceptionally gifted in hearing, but still kept careful watch as she jumped slightly. With one deft motion she whipped around, nearly taking a fighting stance, surprisingly well balanced on top of the stool. Her hair had followed suit, the length swinging, slapping her thigh and falling limp as she stared down this stranger.

He was surprised how well kept it was at that length. For a slum woman.

"Yes. That would be me. Who's asking?" She hopped from the stool and strode closer, cautious and ready to protect herself if necessary. This man had to have some high level of audacity, standing there as if he owned the place and not leaving when she made it rather clear that she wasn't going to be serving him anything. At the same time, his appearance was unassuming, clad in a long brown trench coat which impeccably matched the fedora he sported over blond hair. Though she couldn't get a good look at his face, something in the way he stood there was domineering. He oozed confidence, a trait she wasn't used to seeing in her bar's patrons. Especially the ones who arrived so late in the night. Folding her arms over her chest and cocking her head to the side, Tifa Lockheart waited impatiently for a response. "I said --"

"I heard what you said." Rufus' grin deepened as he stalked forward, predator like, passing the confused bartender. He sat at the bar and continued, "Who I am is of no consequence. I know who you really work with... and I believe I have something you may find... interesting." From a pocket in the lining of his coat he produced a thick manila folder which was unceremoniously tossed onto the oak plated bar. "Go ahead and open it. It is actually a gift to your entire organization, but you may sift through it. I am sure you will find that packet to be most helpful."

Keeping her attention trained on the stranger who was now sitting so elegantly at her bar, Tifa reached forward to the envelope, only to have it snatched from her hands. She leaped back a little, startled, heart pounding. What's the big idea? He had asked her to look, suggested she go over whatever it was he was offering. Looking up Tifa saw eyes she could have thought as beautiful if not for the cold,detachment present within, his gaze matching the growing sneer on his face.

"On second thought... I will require payment, of course." He paused for effect, rapping his fingernails against the wooden surface of the bar in boredom. "I'll settle for a gin and tonic."

Tifa's brows furrowed in frustration. She hated the tone of voice he had used, so commanding and haughty and far too educated for Sector Seven at two in the morning. Clenching her fists, she wanted nothing more than to quite literally kick him out of her bar with the packet of papers he was offering Avalanche. At the same time, however, a part of her wanted to humor him. She was curious -- so curious as to who he was, why he was there, and what his business was with Avalanche. Gritting her teeth, Tifa Lockheart found herself, moments later, garnishing the glass with a lime wedge and thinking perhaps a bit too seriously about spitting in the drink as well. If only she couldn't feel those infernal blue eyes boring into her shoulders, the gaze seemingly magnified by those wire framed glasses... Tifa turned and clunked the ice-laden drink in front of the man, smiling acidly.

"It has been a pleasure doing business with you." He slid the envelope toward her, nodded, and readjusted his glasses again. Tifa took the envelope in hand, sliding the stack of papers out only to look up again when she heard a frustrated growl as the man removed the glasses and held them up, investigating one spot or another. She couldn't help but smile a little in intense amusement at his plight. The best way to deal with someone so smug and full of themselves, in her opinion, was to take pity on them. Especially when beating the snot out of said individual wasn't an option. She ripped a piece of paper towel from its holder and dampening it at the sink, then absently handed it his way. Hearing a murmured "thanks" she returned back to the pile of paper and began flipping through it.

Her eyes widened when she realized what she was holding in her hands. Reactor blueprints... Building maps... Notes on security flaws? Who-- She wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Avalanche was hurting for help and had been hurting long before she had joined. At the same time, however, she couldn't help but look at this stranger half skeptically and half in wonder. Whoever this was had to be an insider or an incredibly good spy. "Who are you? How did you get these?"

"A generous benefactor."

"That isn't the answer I'm looking for."

"And I doubt you will be getting an answer. Where I got those does not matter. Don't question a good thing." Glasses back over his eyes, heleveled a smirk her way and took another sip of the drink, ignoring the ice that clinked in the glass.

"How am I supposed to trust you? You could give away our location to ShinRa or--"

"I would be charged with treason." He stood up and glared at her slightly. "I assure you. You can trust that I won't be giving away your location, identity, what have you. I merely want to see this go to good use." He leaned in, nearly nose to nose and gave the folded hands that were placed upon the stack of papers a gentle pat. "You will make good use of it, right?"

Tifa couldn't help but gulp, thrown back by the way he had suddenly moved, invading her personal space in a way that left her brain buzzing warning after warning. And then the strange moment was gone and the smile she could have sworn was upon his face had vanished. He took another gulp of the gin and tonic, placing the glass on the bar with a thunk before straightening his coat and hat.

"I must be on my way."

"But..." She quirked a look his way, confusion still etched upon her features. If not for who she was or what she was, Rufus would almost think her beautiful. But they were from two separate worlds. Further she was ultimately his enemy. Once Avalanche did they're job -- offed the President, he would be in charge and Rufus doubted that they would suddenly find him incredibly trustworthy. They would turn on him as well, but he would know what to do, how to act, and where to go. He wasn't foolish like his Old Man. He'd get the job done right.

He turned and headed out, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a 2,000 gil note which he tossed idly onto the nearest table. "I doubt we'll be seeing each other again. That is for the drink." 

"I thought the drink was payment." Tifa gave him a wry smile, trying not to outwardly react to the generous amount of money he had just tossed her way. When he didn't say anything she added a quick, "Thank you."

"You want to pay me thanks? Get the job done." And with that he waved off-hand to her, not bothering to turn and see her response. She watched him disappear down the staircase and vanish into streets that she herself wasn't always the most comfortable walking through at night. Staring at the money on her table, then the stack of paperwork left on her bar, she closed the door and locked it, wondering for what felt like the umpteenth time who this strange "generous benefactor" was.

She could have sworn he looked somewhat familiar. Somewhere. As if he had been a face in the crowd. Or perhaps he looked like some celebrity she had seen on television. But as she placed the bill in the register and grabbed the envelope, intending for bed, she hadn't even an inkling that she had been dealing with the second most powerful and influential man on Gaia.

And that soon everything would be changing.


End file.
